on calculating the weight and mass of a mile

it's muggy enough in the apartment tonight that i am reminded of louisiana. outside it's raining a solid asian downpour, and i'm grateful that someone built a small lean-to with a tin roof right outside my window. i know i will sleep like a baby with this lullaby.

meanwhile, we're trying to eat healthy, so i'm fighting off the urge to cook and devour some potatoes right now. the refrigerator is out of order, so the rest of the groceries are unavailable... just some potatoes, some onions, lots of coffee and some spices to be had. there was a box of cereal, too- but the ants found that first. lucky bastards.

i've been terribly moody this week (thank you, kevin, for putting up with me so nicely). this situation- this living abroad thing- seems to hit me in waves. mostly, it's the size of the thing. some days i forget there's anything out of the ordinary in my life. just going to work, having dinner; the usual. then other days i realize the giant stretch of ocean and land that separates me and my last apartment, and a million other familiar things. how is it i wound up here, anyway? and where will i land next??

i've always envied those people who make decisions easily. they go to a restaurant and before they look at the menu they have some idea of what they'll be eating. they go to college and they have a plan of what to study. they graduate and begin pursuing some next step. whereas i seem more to rely on the weather to direct my steps. now, i'm not saying this doesn't work out well for me, in the end. but, man, i think it just must feel great to have some inkling of what you want before it falls into your lap.

nostalgia is a funny thing-

the details our brains choose to hold onto, the insignificant moments that never leave our memory banks... and the strip of wallpaper or the smell of a bubbling pot that suddenly transports you back to another lifetime.

my cousin dee ann has been struggling with a lung disease for a few years now, and had quite a scare with a pretty big infection recently. we're all excited to see her gaining strength by the day now- and it looks like she'll recover from this bout soon enough. hearing this news was one of those things that made the size of my move feel massive.

and anytime i picture her, her head is thrown back and she's laughing hard. she has stunning eyes... like her mother's, and her mother's sisters, and her mother's sister's daughter's, too.

another cousin whom i never got to meet passed away alone in a hotel room recently, much too young. he lived most of his life estranged from his father who wanted quite badly to be there for him, but for reasons out of his control, could not. my heart breaks for my uncle, and for his son. a good person and a loving father- this isn't the easiest thing to come by in life. i often wish that i could have grown up with this man closer by for guidance.

and every time i picture my uncle, he's wearing sunglasses and has a tan from working the boats, and he's taking me to the corner store for ice cream in his smart convertible. he is grinning, and saying wise, encouraging things to a very young me regarding one's general outlook on life; like, enjoy every minute, and, don't sweat the small stuff.

there are many reasons the distance can feel like pain. i have friends getting married and friends having babies and babies turning into children and looking and acting more and more like their parents. i have my own parents with new puppies, and my own pets out there living it up without me! i have people i love dearly going through tough times. for many, many reasons, my longing to be back in the states can be overwhelming some days.

but the other days, i am able to focus on my own present, and hopefully on my own future. granted, i might have to make some decisions for that to happen, but when the waves of nostalgia settle, i am able to think about where my travels might take me, and what opportunities may come from this new job.

i enjoy the crinkles by the eyes of the ajumas. i like shopping for fresh foods at the big market down the street.

i have made friends with some shopkeepers. yesterday, i was walking towards home after work and a neighborhood boy was kicking a soccer ball alone as the sun was setting. without words, still ahead a distance, he kicked the ball to me. i stopped it with my left foot, return kicked with the right. he smiled huge and caught the ball with both hands (guess he was playing goalie) and ran off down the road.

while at a friend's place, three kids with little instruments put on a parade for us, and then we had a water gun show down! i put my feet in a new river. i cheered for korea in the world cup.

i'm learning how to be a disciplinarian. i'm reading a decent book, and have another good one in line. i am a student again. i am not the best writer, and that's okay. i'm not the best musician and that's okay. i'm not the best artist and that's okay. i do these things because i want to... not for outside approval or votes.

life is so small, and so fast, and so incredible. it's supposed to be overwhelming. it's supposed to be elusive. it's supposed to hurt a little now and then.

and later, there will be papaya.

Muses and Musings

When I was young I would spend most summer days running around "exploring" the woods and dirt roads throughout my neighborhood in Wakefield. If you lived in the area and had woods on your property, there's a good chance I've climbed one or two of your trees or skipped a rock on your pond. My favorite spots, fortunately, did belong to my own mom and stepdad, so it was no problem spending all the time I liked down by Thompson Creek and in a particularly hilly spot on the far side of Mom's acreage. Now, 30 and in Korea, I'm back to my old tricks. Don't go worrying, Ma; there's plenty of public property for me to explore here... and besides, civilians don't keep weapons in this country. But I digress.

Anyway I have mentioned her before: Mudung Mountain. Although I keep hearing about the amazingly fresh air to be had on top, both times I've gone, either city smog or nearby fires have affected the air quality. A haze lingered in the air and the sky was overcast when I went this past Sunday- with weather just cool enough to make a fair girl forget to put on sunscreen. I was in the company of two new American buddies, Karla and Meika. They took me to a quaint traditional tea house nestled in a rural area of the mountain, only a step off the beaten path (quite well beaten, in fact- the mountain being such a popular destination for locals and tourists alike.) I learned the proper Korean way to serve and enjoy tea; taking only three or four rounds to master the finish-in-3-sips custom.

Then we walked around some small farms and down a curvy two lane road until we reached a popular traditional Korean garden: The kind created with zen in mind... where poets and philosophers have come for centuries to find harmony in their surroundings so that they can better concentrate on their muses and musings. Unfortunately, that well designed tranquil atmosphere has turned into a sideshow, which means you couldn't sit in one spot and clear your mind anywhere inside this garden today any more than you could at your local shopping mall's food court. All the same, it was pretty cool to see the old masonry, bamboo and clay and stones.... actual fire pits built under floors for heating homes. The place was special, and I particularly enjoyed how it did have a general path to follow, but not a strict one- so we were free to run up this hill or play in the stream. I hunted for cool rocks or ancient artifacts... did find two pieces of broken pottery. It's most likely they are from some bowl recently purchased from the local five-and-ten, but I'm holding on to them just in case.

Next we took a short hike to a sweet resting pavilion that was surrounded by good smelling trees and flowers and such. There was one scent in particular I struggled to place that reminded me of home; after it bugged me long enough, I ran around sniffing every leaf in sight- and although I enjoyed that experience and now feel closer to my friend, Sinoun, who's always enjoyed an acute sense of smell, alas, I never could quite place that aroma. But I did discover wild mint, white jasmine, rose stalks, ants marching sideways, wild red berries, sticky grass, and those white flowers with strong stems we would tie end to end to make jewelry with- remember?

I continue to explore the city streets, as well. When I can't sleep or just have time to kill, I will often just follow the roads downtown and see where they lead. At night you can walk along the river that runs between opposing directions of traffic high above (the swishing sounds of cars and bikes blend nicely with the flowing water) and neon lights stand firmly overhead but move excitedly when reflected. Couples hold hands and whisper, friends lean on each other and giggle loudly. Shop keepers prepare for their customers or prepare to go home, depending on the hour and the business. Dirty independent cats dart between buildings... I have yet to see a rat. I find bottles and unwanted old sandals, mirrors, dressers, and coats piled on street corners, waiting to be claimed by one of the old, bent recycling collectors. Citizens of Gwangju are never hesitant to call a curbside a trashcan, so streets are often cluttered and unkept, but night workers do sweep through regularly so that early morning looks a sight better. It works out for us, though, as that it makes it easier to locate interesting alternative canvases. Sooner or later, we're bound to create something awesome.

But for now, I'm satisfied peeking under rocks and smelling trees- soaking in those things that inspire.

reflections on not taking advice and breaking a promise, and also, my muses

my teeth hurt. no, my jaw and head hurt and they know the teeth are to blame, and the teeth feel guilty. i was told 12 years ago i needed my wisdom teeth removed a.s.a.p., and we've come along this far together with no real problems. isn't it just like a tooth to wait until you're in another country to raise it's hand and tell you it's gotta go! but don't worry, i'm buying some pain killer and putting it off a little longer... i really want these guys to reach their fullest potential.

school is going very well. i'm getting positive feedback from the teachers, kids and my boss. i just finished grading my first speeches, and worked through the struggle of precise judgement on them (i am obsessed with fairness in this area)... so it took longer than it should, but i think it was worth it.

i have always been reluctant to become a teacher despite so many people pushing me in that direction- and i still have a lot of reservations about doing this in the states- but i really do dig the job i have here... and that's the most amazing part of this adventure for me. i have never felt this kind of creative freedom, personal connection, and immediate reward when it comes to the work i've done to pay the bills.

i'm meeting and getting to know new people every week: so that keeps me smiling, too. this situation has led me to interact with so many types of people i just normally wouldn't have ever met or put time in with... and i find the opportunity is making me appreciate those things that make us all unique even more than before. what i mean to say is, when forced to make friends outside of one's natural choices, the resulting diversity and new ways of thinking introduced back and forth can lead to some enlightening and unforgettable experiences.

the music is still going, but less frequently now. i mean, i'm still playing once a week for whoever happens to be at the german bar when i go in... sometimes a few people, sometimes a crowd: i am happiest when it's not all foreigners cause americans and canadians just don't offer a girl trying to share pretty songs the kind attention and applause that the koreans do. but i feel kind of guilty for so quickly abandoning my promise to ruby (that's the guitar) that i would play her every day. ***dear kt, insert your poem here*** but i've recently acquired some new music on the mac and feel inspiration slowly coming to a boil inside... so i hope soon i'll be making new songs.

ps- i probably wore out so fast on that promise because i was focusing on finding popular covers to play every day, and that just felt weird after a while.

kevin and i are also both poised to create some fun art as soon as the time feels right: we have the materials and the trash-turned-canvases... you just wait til that moment strikes! it's gonna be awesome.

by the way, i'm so thrilled every day that kevin and i are getting to do this together. i just wouldn't be having half as much fun without him; the boy is gifted at creating smiles.

that about covers things for now.

as a side note, though, let it be known there isn't fear or panic here at all over the tension with north korea (a lot of you have expressed concern).... every one seems confident that it's being resolved level-headedly and will not be the cause of ww3: i don't know if the american media is exploiting the story for ratings and making it sound scarier than it is, but we're all safe and comfortable here.

well, except for those damned teeth.

just an update

this week i took the 1187. the bus was completely full, so i was standing and giving my best death grip to the handrail, trying not to fall completely onto the other struggling passengers as our bus driver wheeled us rapidly and sternly around each upward curve around Mudeung Mountain. by the time we stopped about halfway up, i was completely nauseous. only a few steps off the bus i was inside a convenience store reminding me of old Satterfield's (the gas station in my hometown years upon years ago). people were sitting around small tables resting with cold drinks and snack foods like salted boiled eggs and squid jerky. i paid for a drink comparable with sprite and a large striped hat, and let my sea legs carry me down the busiest path. this turned out to be 'restaurant row'; along which sat at least ten or fifteen eateries all of which understood well the serenity produced by flat rocks, bare wood, and running water... i will show you pictures later... for now suffice it to say i would gladly sit for an eternity at any of these establishments as long as the weather kept.

the hat, my new best friend, protected me from a rather determined sun as i made my way along a path of rocks alongside a creek bed:

down to the creek. off shoes, off socks, into this bag. the water was freezing. three small girls played in some sitting puddles... tadpoles and baby mosquitos twisting bodies, no doubt. a wooden sign announcing random destinations and their proximity to myself at this spot. i chose the smallest number and followed the arrow. up, up, up, and up. a stairway of dirt, roots, and rocks. fully leaved trees assisted my hat brim's cause. passing couples nodded hello. some ladies were taking this small hike on in heels and sunday dresses. such bravery. i still didn't quite make it to the top before giving up and stepping down, down, down.

also this week:

i got my hair did... i keep finding kind ladies who want to help me over the language barrier.... kevin scooped me up in the German Bar and we devoured some Burger King with Chris, then visited Michelle (and neither were Gerkes, sadly)... i chatted with a korean man named B.J. Park who worked in coal mines in Germany, on the streets of Chicago, and who made and left a family in California... i had mashed potatoes.... i saw Robin Hood and shoe shopped with my new friend.... i found a good book.... i bought two t-shirts... i played music for the crowd, and they all sang along.... i laughed with the kids... i learned a few Korean words... mmmmm.

goodness.

The Best Night of My Life

I was out late last night, nursing jasmine tea and playing online at a 24-hour café downtown suggestively named Tom-and-Toms (inside of which there were both a small gym and a fish-tank smoking section.) Finishing up around 1:30 a.m. I stepped out onto a dark street shimmering with reflected neon signs in puddles formed by a good hour’s worth of rain drizzling from a black sky. After only a few steps toward home I realized the clouds were done fooling around: The day had been sunny and warm, so I was without an umbrella or sleeves and was not looking forward to the hike home in these conditions. That is why I decided to turn in when I saw the sign for the German Bar. I had been told that this was not a bad little business, with musical acts regularly and a decent foreign crowd. I was a little disappointed, though, as I passed through the double doors and realized that the crowd was freshly evacuated: Evidenced by empty and near-empty mugs crowded on most of the tables and cigarette butts pouring over ashtray edges. Only two Korean men remained, leaning together at the bar with drinks and smokes of their own. I guessed immediately that the elder was the bar's owner and the younger his employee. My first thought was to turn on my heels and apologize for intruding after business hours, but they opened their arms and welcomed me loudly and sincerely. Hello! Welcome!

I asked if they would mind serving me a single whiskey while I waited out the rain, and the owner bowed his head slightly while holding a sideways smile and walked around to the front of the bar, pulled out a chair and motioned me over. Once I inquired, this man claimed to be known as Casanova, and his employee answered to Playboy. The man's attitude was joyous, kind, playful and mysterious all at once. He spoke English quite well, and I was thankful to have this moment for some small talk with an interesting stranger.

He told me about his family: "My wife, she looks terrible, but my girlfriend is very pretty"

He told me his children are beautiful, and I asked how old they are- "Not as old as I am," he replied, "And so they are very, very young."

Finally, after feeling I had waited a polite enough amount of time, I asked if I might be allowed to play with the guitar I had noticed on the stage the moment I walked in. There was also a full drum set, an amp, and an electric piano that needed some repair. Of course, he said, and fetched the instrument for me. The fourth string was broken, but he had backups.

I laid the guitar on top of the bar, pushing aside some napkin holders and empty mugs. Mr. Casanova stood across the bar from me for the operation, and, when I asked if he might have pliers around, produced a small box of tools without moving an inch. “Happy to be of service” may be his motto in life… that or “It’s all good”. I don’t believe he ever stops smiling that slightly suspicious grin.

Both men watched me wind the string. Playboy had prepared a Jack on the rocks for me but seemed uncomfortable with the amount of ice he’d included, and twice fished an extra cube from a small bucket with tongs to carry carefully to my glass. Once I had a sip or two and got the guitar in tune, I asked what I could play that they might know. They both seemed eager with suggestions for a moment, but as soon as Mr. Casanova saw I was not from the same America they had piped in through the airwaves, he asked if I would play something of my own. “This is best, always,” he said.

I opened with my song, “Isn’t Any Town”, and when it ended I looked up and found both men completely attentive and breaking into cheers. “You are genius!” Mr. Casanova shouted. “Please more!” Next I played Bobby McGee, A Case of You, and Creep- all receiving enthusiastic applause along with vague familiarity.

Then we had a joiner.

A man walked in with longish hair under a smart green hat like Tom Waits would not shake a stick at. He sat in the chair on the corner between Casanova and myself, and seemed very pleased at our little scene. He had an almost permanent smile also, though more demure. He introduced himself timidly as Mr. Cho. I believe he was Casanova’s brother or cousin. I played more songs; Bizarre Love Triangle, House of the Rising Sun; one or two more of my own, and Mr. Cho constructed a small percussion set out of the napkin holders and mugs with chopstick drumsticks and kept my rhythm, even sang backup now and then. I was quite glad of his addition, and eventually relinquished the guitar to his capable hands. He played with thick calloused fingers, picking professionally and singing with strength and confidence. Beautiful, beautiful. Mr. Cho sang a handful of Korean love songs and tried to play songs for me to sing (oh, yes, at this point Mr. Casanova had grabbed the microphone and set it up between me and Mr. Cho) but I am afraid I let him down on my knowledge of lyrics by Peter Paul and Mary and, sadly, even Elvis Presley. (As a side note, I am continuously surprised by which popular American songs, shows and movies make it this far and which ones don’t- More on that later)

The two of us passed the guitar and the mic back and forth, making each song a duet somehow, although neither backup singer ever knew what the hell we were singing. Mr. Casanova and Playboy did not get back to work or clean up the mess of the missing crowd. No, they listened and clapped and smiled and praised. Mr. Casanova said “This is the best night of my life” a number of times until I conceded his point. Now a couple wondered in from the storm; a tall, pretty Korean woman in a bright yellow shirt and her date who seemed homely and smitten. They came in as I was finishing “Sweet Nothing” with Mr. Cho banging out the beat with his chopsticks. They, too, were happy for the surprise entertainment, and offered to buy me a drink in exchange for another song. Mr. Cho took the guitar and played, finally, a song I knew and knew well- and we rocked out to “What’s Up” by 4 Non-Blondes: When I got to the screaming parts, my female audience screamed with me.

When I played “Albatross”, Mr. Cho was touched and asked me to explain the love story. I began, but his English ears are not so good, and he soon gave up and stopped me, “I don’t understand,” waving his hands in front of him to signal my story’s end, “but I think I understand,” and he pulls both hands in to his chest, covering his heart, and nodding slightly.

Music breathed deeply and freely in the German Bar. Mr. Casanova disappeared into the kitchen twice, returning after a song’s time with a plate of fish and then a plate of eggs cooked with peppers, onions and cheese for Mr. Cho and me. I hopped over to the piano and made tinkering additions to Mr. Cho’s Korean songs. He ran over with the guitar and I played a song or two there on the stage, the piano missing keys.

When we struggled to think of words to a song together, Mr. Casanova pulled up the karaoke equipment and had us look there. We sang You are My Sunshine, Hounddog, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Friends in Low Places, House of the Rising Sun (again), a couple of Dylan tunes, Proud Mary… how I wish I could remember them all. I wish I could remember every tiny detail of this magical night.

Mr. Casanova never ceased his praise. He said he wants me to come back Friday and Saturday to play and meet some people. “I will introduce you! I have more friends than you!” he said laughing. “But my friends will be your friends. Maybe you come here every night. I will make you dinner- and if I am here, you do not pay for things. If it’s my staff, different story, but me- you are free”

The guitar was black. The eggs and cheese were delicious. The cheese, he said, was Korean- no added salt or sugar. I was wearing jeans rolled up, my black shirt with white flowers. Mr. Casanova commented on my Irish heritage. He would not give me a straight answer as to why his bar is the German bar. Mr. Cho said Mr. Casanova lived in Germany a while ago, but Mr. Casanova denied this claim with a shaking head and, “No, that’s what people tell me- but I don’t remember that. But I don’t know- Maybe.”

As we slowed on songs, Mr. Casanova ordered Playboy to get him his song. Playboy chuckled and set up the karaoke for his boss. The girl in yellow braced herself with fingers hovering next to her ears. Mr. Casanova gave a most magnificent performance of “I Did It My Way”.

5:00 A.M. rolled around. My glass was empty, my heart was full, my head was swimming and the rain had slowed. I decided to say goodnight to my new friends and trudge home.

I plan to return Friday or Saturday- who knows, maybe both, as he requested. I will play there again, with a bigger audience next time, most likely. But I am reluctant to return in a way. I don’t believe this experience there could possibly be topped.

The next morning, I learned Kevin had spent his evening making music also. He finished his first song. No, you’ll never hear it- but I did, and out of all the songs created that night, I do believe his will stand out the most in my memory.

But it’s like Mr. Casanova said: You must play your own song. This is best, always.

The Importance of Being Cute

cute |kyoōt|adjective1 attractive in a pretty or endearing way : a cute kitten.
This is one cute place.

Mind you, it's pronounced "cute-ah"

Of course the kids are cute- that's a given. I do award extra points to those children who wear small CEO style vests and jackets to school, those who carry pencil boxes that double as stuffed animals, and those who wear pigtails. They say cute things, and do cute things: But come on, they're kids; it's expected.

But you see, women carry tiny dogs in purses or in their jackets. If a dog has to suffer walking on a leash, it is comforted by a colorful sweater or small scarf. There are pet photography studios, and, yes, pet make up is available for the shoot. Big pink blushed cheeks on a white poodle; just imagine it! Across the street at the human photo studio, it would not be strange to see a grown woman posing holding a teddy bear. These same grown women wear ribbons and bows in their hair; big, bright bows, I tell you. They wear oversized shirts with pictures of animals on the front and colorful stockings underneath. The mini-est of mini skirts are completely acceptable, but showing so much as a collarbone (God forbid, cleavage!) is considered taboo! Boys and men are encouraged to dress up a bit, and the idea of America's "metro-sexual" is pretty much every guy in this city. Men's hair is often styled carefully, a full range of colors are comfortably draped around their necks: pink is not worn ironically. You know those polo shirts with the polo dude on the left? I've seen something similar is popular here- but instead of the little stitching of a man on a horse, it's a teddy bear in a flowered shirt, and it's three times the size. Cafes are decorated like sugar dreams and tree houses, ginger bread rooms and cartoons.

Cute is in the details. It's the red ribbon carefully tied around your pizza box, like a Christmas present, when you order take-out. It's the kittens stitched into the slippers sitting by the entrance to your private Wii-playing room. Cute is the handmade lap blanket available at restaurants for ladies in skirts to sit comfortably cross-legged on their cushion on the floor. Cute has draped itself over the walls surrounding the police station; a pastel colored cartoon mural depicting children offering officers lollipops, officers escorting smiling faces in the back of their little cars (presumably a misdemeanor), officers holding hands with old people. It sits on the dashboard of almost every car you care to walk by, as little plastic figures with moving parts; a tiny plastic potted plant with leaves dancing in the sun as it's owner runs an errand.

Almost every ceramic mug has a bunny or a bear on it. Most blankets and pillows feature flowers or plaid or.... well, nothing any 'good old boy' would be caught dead sleeping with. Scooters are plaid!

Women (or gay men) seem to be in charge of the interior decor of every place... Even the bank had soft colors and fresh flowers everywhere. Estrogen is flowing in the streets.

Standing in line at the Alien Registration Office, I asked Kevin to hand me some money, and this got a laugh out of our Korean Boss. How backwards, she said, for the man to hold the money! In Korea, that is the woman's job. Not bad, Korea. Not bad.

In America people are blowing money on tanning booths, sprays, and lotions while in Korea people are bleaching their skin: I suppose the grass is always greener. Plastic surgery centers are easy to find and cheaper than almost anywhere, I'm told. If you're not cute enough, you've got options.

I was given a big plate of five different fresh cut fruits compliments of the house at one restaurant where I didn't even order food: Cute.

DVD Bang: Private movie viewing room with big cumfy chaise, box of tissues for the sad movies, little pillows and a blanket, small ceramic village with ambient light above the furniture, a gigantic screen.... and in the bathroom at this place, a heated toilet seat, a hairdryer and mouthwash available. Cute.

Went to my first Korean Art Gallery. The featured artist has created huge ink paintings based on photographs of small children looking into a fish-eye lens. In some images the artist pulls the camera back so that you see a background or other figure in perfect perspective, but the main image still has that giant bubbly head.... In my favorite piece the bobblehead child is napping on the tummy of some giant monster. It's pretty great.... and you know what else it is? CUTE.

I walked into one of the music stores finally. I've eyed the displays many times, always wishing to go inside and play a guitar, fiddle, or whatever else they'd let me touch. Kevin found one he liked the other day with a cool lady running it who knew a little english. He took me there today and we played a few guitars. The lady clapped for me after a little picking, then took the travel-sized guitar I was playing with and strapped it on herself and played a little ditty that sounded a bit like old style country music. A little later, she opened a case and had me come see this hand made red guitar laying in the deeper red velvet lined interior of a very nice case. I pulled it out and gave it a strum- and it was amazing! It had a great density, a sweet sound... hand made in Korea. Kevin and I were both thrilled with it, and I decided it had to be mine. The price was more than fair, and after all, I just got paid!

What could I do? I had no choice.

It was one cute guitar!

And now, it's mine : )

cup-o-pizza, we wii cafe, and severed pig heads

so, last weekend we found the epicenter of shopping. there's this marketplace right off one of the subway stops that made my face light up like it was christmas. you've never seen anything like this! i haven't anyway... it was miles and miles of little stands set up with fresh vegetables, from commonplace to exotic; fruit of any and every kind; beautiful and colorful handmade candies and cakes; lines of fresh little fish tied together with yellow ribbon; prepared dishes you could buy by the pound; fresh cuts of meat sitting right next to, say, a severed pigs head..... and then there were socks and shirts and pillowcases and necklaces and baby clothes and quilts.... just stuff of every sort everywhere you look. most of the sellers worked very hard on their displays and made each product look beautiful and special... i wanted to buy a little of everything. people in the booths were chatting, laughing with eachother- little old women with those crinkles by their eyes that show evidence of a lifetime of smiles... in one alley a middle aged woman walking alone came up to me, took my hand and tried to tell me something... i couldn't understand all the korean she was pouring out to me, but her hands were soft and her eyes were kind, so i took it as something nice (though kevin believes she put a hex on me... but that's kevin). we watched one white and one brown puppy play-fight at our feet between a few vegetable stands as we were walking in one direction. we saw them curled up and napping together on the way back. in the end, though, i was too overwhelmed by it all to actually purchase anything. i will go again, but with a list of what i could use and a camera, too, so i can show you what i mean.

i went back to the pharmacy. kevin and i have been snot recycling centers all week; i thought i'd try out some ancient asian remedy for said problem. i went back to the little corner pharmacy with the nice ladies and was ready with my sign language. i tried out the word 'sinus' first, then 'runny nose', 'pressure'.... three strikes. so on to the hand motions. i ran my fingers from the bridge to the base of my nose and made as sad face. i pinched the very top of my nose, between my eyes, and made a moaning sound. i fake coughed. this time, all the kind ladies were into the game, but they all looked completely puzzled and made no guesses.... until one woman sitting behind me stood up and said in perfect english, "you have a cold?"

yeah.

and what do they give me? no special herbs to mash and put in tea. no weird root to suck on or put under my pillow at night. no powders. nope.

tylenol cold and sinus.

so there ya go.

the cold is really annoying- i'm happy it's trailing off and cannot wait until it's completely gone. it's had a way of draining all my energy since it showed up- so this has been a rather uneventful week all in all. if i wasn't working, i was sleeping.

we did manage to have a little fun tonight, though. we were finished a little earlier than usual at school, and went to a place called the 'we wii' cafe. there, we paid 3.50 a piece for a coffee and were shown to a private room where we could enjoy our coffee with our very own giant flatscreen and a wii. if you want an extra hour, you buy another coffee.

across the street from the we wii cafe there is a pizza stand that will sell you a slice for about a dollar... and do you know how they hand you that slice? do you, friends?

they do it steve-martin's-the-jerk-style, kids: that's right! it's pizza in a cup! color me tickled.